In the early part of the summer business, for some reason or other, fell off considerably. While Mr. Winestopper, was canvassing in his own mind the possible causes for this shrinkage in normal neighborhood consumption of wet goods other discomfiting things began to occur. The agent for the owner of the premises waited upon him and told him that, beginning the following month, the rent would be advanced $600 per annum. The two barkeepers notified him that the barkeepers’ union had passed a rule calling for an increase in the wage scale. He got a summons for an alleged violation of the Sunday closing law and was confronted by the prospect that, if found guilty, he would pay a heavy fine. The brewery sent him word that the price of beer shortly would go up.
Mr. Winestopper considered the situation in all of its various and disturbing phases. Then he took a piece of chalk and on the mirror behind the bar he wrote, where all might read, the following ultimatum:
“The first of July will be the last of August!”
§ 173 Of a Careless Nature
A colored man owned a mule which, for reasons best known to himself he desired to sell. He heard that a neighbor down the road was in the market for a mule. So he put a halter on the animal and led her to the cabin of the other negro.
At once negotiations were entered into. The owner had delivered himself of a eulogy touching on the strength, capacity for hard work, and amiable disposition of his beast, when the prospective purchaser broke in with a question:
“Is dis yere mule fast?”
“Fast?” the proprietor snorted. “Look yere!” He gave the mule a kick in the ribs, whereupon she bucked sideways, tore down a strip of fencing, galloped headlong through a week’s washing, butting against the side of the barn, and then caroming off, tore across a garden patch and vanished into the woods beyond the clearing.
“Look yere, nigger,” said the owner of the damaged property, “dat mule must be blind.”
“She ain’t blind,” said the owner; “but she jest natchelly don’t keer a damn!”